


In The Swim

by Cerdic519



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, M/M, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A careless remark costs Dean his friendship with Gabriel Novak, and leads to Gabriel's brother Castiel being beaten senseless in the school swimming pool. Now three years later, Dean suddenly has a new rival in the college swim team - and once again, he seems fated to destroy Castiel's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Swim

If anyone tried to describe the archetypal jock, they could do little better than post a picture of one Dean Alexander Winchester. Captain of the school football team, and so well-liked that even the revelation of his bisexuality in sophomore year had done little to dent his meteoric rise. He did just enough to scrape by, to the annoyance of all his teachers who knew he could do better, but then he had other more important concerns, the main one being raising his younger brother. He had raised Sammy virtually single-handed, after losing his mother in a fire just after the kid's birth and his father to alcohol poisoning just after starting school. Their father's death should have landed both boys in care, but it proved a blessing in disguise, as it brought their late father's old friend Bobby Singer into their lives. Dean's grades improved sharply, mainly because Bobby threatened to remove parts of his anatomy if he didn't buck his ideas up. So all in all, as he started his final year, Dean's life was turning out okay.  
Until his best friend punched him in the face.  
   
That Monday had gone much like any other, a pretty run-of-the-mill school day in Dean’s opinion. Assembly had been a bit longer than usual because some kid or other had got beaten up in the swimming pool, and the principal gave a long-winded lecture about the evils of bullying, which went several miles over Dean’s head as he was busy eyeing up Lisa Braeden. The only odd thing that day was that Dean’s best friend, Gabriel, was absent. Gabe hardly had a brilliant attendance record, but that particular day was the third and last sweet-making lesson in home economics, which Dean knew Gabe loved. Which was why he decided to go over to his friend's house on his way home from school.  
However, when he arrived at the house, he could sense immediately something was wrong. The place had a strangely deserted feel, as if the whole family – all eight of them – had suddenly upped and left. Dean was wondering what on earth was going on when Gabriel came out of the front door, locking it behind him.  
“Hey, Gabe!”  
The boy looked at him strangely, and Dean’s unease ratcheted up another couple of notches. Gabriel strode over silently to where he was leaning against the Impala. Then he punched him in the face.  
“You! Utter! Complete! Bastard!”  
“Gabe!”  
Gabriel was several inches shorter than Dean, but his sheer fury made the taller boy cower.  
“Do you know what you’ve done? Huh? Do you?”  
“What are you talking about?” Dean gasped out.  
“That kid that got beaten up in the pool yesterday. Beaten senseless by your three goons; Fergus, Zach and Uriel. That was my brother!”  
“Your brother?” Dean managed.  
“Little Castiel. His first day, and you let slip to your goons that he’s scared shitless of water. Something I told you in confidence, ex-friend.”  
“Gabe!”  
“We're all moving as soon as we can find another town, and so Castiel can go to school without being beaten half to death. Because of you, Dean Winchester! You’re as guilty as those three goons, though I bet you get away with it. I never want to see you again, do you understand? Never!”  
He spat in Dean’s face, and strode angrily to his red Mustang, before getting in and vanishing in a cloud of dust. Dean stared after him, dumbstruck.  
What had he done?  
   
Almost as bad as his former best friend’s anger was his brother’s reaction.  
“Why, Dean? I mean, if those morons had come after me, you’d have decked them as soon as look at them. Why was it okay for them to go after someone else? I could have been Castiel, you know.”  
“I know! Don’t remind me!”  
“I’m disappointed in you, Dean. I thought you were better than that.”  
“I am!”  
“Try telling Castiel Novak that. Have you seen the paper?”  
“No.”  
Sam passed over the Gazette, and pointed to the lead article. Dean stared in horror. The young Novak had been beaten black and blue, and looked barely.alive. Worst of all for Dean was the look of sheer bewilderment on the boy’s face, as if he couldn’t understand what had happened. He was even the same age as Sammy.  
Dean felt like a heel. But hey, he was young and resilient, his whole life ahead of him. He’d soon get over it.  
   
Dean didn’t get over it.  
In the three years that followed, he swiftly became a very different person. He started trying to stick up for those being bullied, first at school and then at Kansas University. It wasn’t easy, but by the time he started his junior year, he still had a good rep and everyone knew they’d have him to answer to if he found out they’d been bullying. Much of this was down to Sammy who, on those days Dean felt down, would tell him how proud he was of his brother’s new attitudes. If it made Sammy happy, Dean would pull down the moon and stars.  
Dean had started college trying for the football team, but he knew he was only fairly good at best, and there was just too much competition. However, he found he had a natural talent for swimming, particularly in the coveted 50 metre sprint. He trained a lot in his spare time, getting better and better until he was the fastest man on the team.  
Until that fateful Thursday, when his life came crashing down a second time.

It was just a run-of-the-mill practice, with Coach Turner starting by going through how two of the university students were faring at the Olympics in London. He then outlined what they would be doing as regards practice, and the times he expected from them.  
“One more thing”, he growled. “We’re getting a new team member. This kid’s transferred from another school in the state, and his times are impressive. His best is actually 0.1 seconds quicker than yours, Dean.”  
Dean snorted, and the other team members laughed. Coach Turner looked over their heads to the changing room entrance just behind them, and smiled.  
“Here he comes now”, he said. “Gentlemen, meet Mr Castiel Novak!”  
Dean spun round in horror at that name, and came face to face with… him!  
The intervening three years had changed Gabriel’s brother so much that Dean would hardly have recognized him from the battered wreck in the paper, had it not been for those eyes. He was a couple of inches shorter than Dean, but had a compact swimmer’s build, and strong leg muscles. But it was the eyes that got Dean the most. They were the sort of blue normally only found on paint colour charts. And those eyes were looking straight at him. With complete and utter hatred.  
Coach Turner coughed.  
“Hey, welcome to the team, Castiel.”  
“Thank you, sir. I am grateful you have given me this opportunity.”  
Christ, thought Dean. He not only speaks like he’s swallowed a dictionary, but that voice could make a fortune on the phone sex lines.  
The coach looked between the two young men, clearly sensing something was wrong, but then shrugged and sent the men off to warm up.  
   
Sam was no help.  
“It’s Nemesis”, he told his brother when Dean phoned him. Sam had gotten a full scholarship to Stanford to do pre-law, much to Dean’s pride, though he missed his brother dreadfully.  
But he didn’t miss the nagging.  
“You should have seen the way he looked at me, Sammy. He hates me!”  
“Can you blame him? You did a bad thing, Dean, and it’s come back to bite you in the ass!”  
“But Sammy, I’ve been a better person since. Hey, you know that more than anyone!”  
Sam sighed.  
“You took a whole lot away from that kid by your actions that day, Dean”, he said firmly. “And now it looks as if he might just take something of yours.”  
“What?”  
“The student championships in Russia next year? Didn’t Coach Turner say your times were good enough for at least a wildcard? But if Castiel is faster, then he’ll probably go instead.”  
“Shit! I didn’t think of that!”  
“You’ll just have to train harder.”  
   
The next two weeks were awful for Dean. Every time Coach Turner gathered the men round for a briefing, Castiel seemed to make a point of being as far away from Dean as he could whilst still in the group. The coach knew something was wrong, but didn’t push it. They were both in the relay squad, but Dean was the starter and Castiel the last to go, so there was no interaction between them.  
Dean started going to the pool earlier for practice, only to find Castiel was always there before him, his dark mop of untidy hair (somehow it managed to stick out even when wet) racing up and down the practice lane. Dean couldn’t for the life of him think of anything to say, even when they were getting changed afterwards. What could you say to the man whose life you ruined?  
Things were pretty crap.  
   
“Well done, Dean!” Coach Turner smiled, as the young man stood panting before him. “You’ve shaved another 0.11 off your best since the start of the year.”  
Dean smiled.  
“And Castiel, you’ve improved by 0.14.”  
Dean’s smile vanished, not helped when several of the other team members snickered behind his back. His relationship (or lack thereof) with the team’s newest member was kinda like the Grand Canyon. Hard to miss. Castiel didn’t tend to smile, but Dean noticed that his eyes did that weird crinkling at the edges thing they did when he was amused at something or someone. He’d never seen it except when Castiel was talking to other people. His conversations with Dean were brief to the point of rudeness.  
What made it worse was that Castiel was popular with the rest of the team. It wasn’t just his good manners, but the fact he would never turn down a request to help someone, though he always made it clear help never extended to doing things for them. But he found referenced articles for the men and pointed them in the right direction as regards resources, and after only a few weeks, the whole team loved him.  
Even Dean.  
   
It had started in the showers the first day they got changed together. Not exactly together together – Castiel had pointedly taken his clothes to the furthest point of the changing room from Dean’s, and he had also used the shower head furthest away. But because one row of heads was being repaired, this meant Dean could still see everything. And Castiel had a lot of everything.  
It was a full month later before he spotted the tattoo on the young man’s neck, so tiny it wasn’t surprising he had missed it.  
“You’re inked!” he blurted out.  
Castiel turned a cold glare on him.  
“I was not aware that was a crime?” His voice could have cut glass.  
“No, of course not! Just you. Tattoos. It’s not….”  
He dried up. Castiel stared at him, witheringly.  
“Not what you expected from the nerd whose life you destroyed?”  
Dean hung his head in shame. He could feel the young man’s presence some stalls away, then to his surprise, Castiel came right up to him.  
“You should see this. After all, it was you who made it.”  
Dean blushed horribly, but looked up. The young man was far too close, and he could smell the chlorine on both their skins, as well as the scent of Castiel's shower gel, something with pine. He tried to focus on the tattoo instead. It was a tiny thing, less than an inch across. A small feather, with a single word written under it in a curve. ‘Unbroken’.  
“You nearly destroyed me, Dean Winchester. You might as well have been with those three thugs when they beat me senseless. Instead, they got expelled and you got…. oh yes, a talking to. Wow!”  
“Look, I’m sorry! Hey, I’ve changed a lot since then. Ask Sammy; I know he wrote to you afterwards and apologized and all that.”  
“I hate you!”  
“Cas!”  
The young man seemed to flare up.  
“What did you call me?”  
“I mean….”  
Castiel stared at him for a long moment, then backed slowly away, picked up his shower things, and headed back to the changing room. Dean stared after him, feeling lower than he had felt in ages.  
   
Another two weeks, and Dean was seriously considering dropping out of the team altogether. The whole thing with Castiel was seriously screwing with his mind, and it was starting to affect his other classes too. Even the workings of classic cars from the seventies paled into insignificance before the glow of a pair of brilliant blue eyes.  
Eyes that looked at him with hatred, every single time.  
It was only fear of Coach Turner’s reaction that had held Dean off from quitting, but by the third week, when Castiel had started to invade his dreams as well, he knew he was in trouble. Particularly as those dreams always ended up with him waking up at some god awful hour and having to head to the communal bathroom for a shower.  
Dean still trained every morning, though he made a point of arriving ten minutes after the pool opened so he could avoid Castiel, and always got out a few minutes before the end of session. One day in particular he had just gotten out when he saw something odd. One of the seniors, who had been involved in the polo practice going on in the other pool, had wandered over and was standing far too close to Castiel. The guy was about twice the size of the freshman, and Dean drifted closer to see what was going on.  
“Come on, featherboy! Bet you've never had a real man before!”  
“Why?” Castiel answered, looking bored. “Do you know one?”  
“You son of a bitch!”  
He made a grab for the younger man, but Castiel moved too fast for him, throwing off his arms and shoving him backwards. Unfortunately they were near the edge of the pool, and the senior went straight in with a loud splash. Coach Turner, who had been refereeing the polo match, came striding over.  
“What do you think you're doing, boy?” he demanded angrily. “You know we don't mess around near the pool! I thought you were better than that!”  
“He is”, Dean put in.  
They both looked at him in surprise. He reddened, then went for it.  
“That thug made a pass at him, sir, and he pushed him off.”  
“Is that true, boy?”  
Castiel blushed.  
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry.”  
“Hmm. Well, I'll see what that young idiot has to say for himself. But next time, speak up for yourself, right?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
The coach went to the senior, who was clambering out of the pool. Castiel looked at Dean curiously for a moment, then wet back to the practice lanes. Dean looked at the time, decided it was close enough to the end of practice, and headed for the changing room.

“Hi.”  
Dean jumped, catching his leg on the locker-room bench. Somehow Castiel had come up right behind him without making a sound.  
“Yikes. Wear a bell, why don't you?”  
Castiel did that head-tilt thing of his, which Dean most definitely did not find cute. No way. Never.  
“I just wanted to say thank you for speaking up for me”, Castiel said. “It's not something I'm very good at normally.”  
“Unlike swimming.”  
“Yes. Anyway, thank you, Dean.”  
He walked silently away to his clothes pile at the far end of the changing room. Dean looked after him for a moment, then left.  
He hoped this was the beginning of peace between them.

The next day, Dean arrived at the changing room to find, to his surprise, that Castiel wasn't there. He wondered if the young man were ill, but a few minutes after he was in the pool he arrived. They didn't exchange a word during practice but when they went to change afterwards, Dean found Castiel not only came out almost immediately after him, but showered just a couple of stalls away, and that his clothes were next to his own, not at the furthest corner of the room.  
It was a start.

It was less than a month until the championship trials, and both men were training harder than ever. Dean's times had improved slightly, but Castiel still had the edge on him. They weren't anywhere near buddies yet, but at least Castiel was treating him more like a human being.  
So naturally, Dean had to go and push things.  
“About that day...” he began nervously.  
Castiel shot him a look. They were changing after their showers, and both of them were wearing only their boxers. Dean mentally forced his mind away from what it desperately wanted to happen next, and back to the matter in hand.  
“I really don't want to talk about it”, Castiel said, coldly.  
“Are you ever going to forgive me for it?”  
“Why?”  
The question caught Dean off-guard. He stared dumbly into those deep blue eyes, willing his gaze not to drop any lower. Castiel pulled his shirt on, staring back at him.  
“Because... I kinda want you to forgive me, so we can move on and all that crap.”  
“Move on to what, Dean?”  
And something inside what was left of Dean's brain snapped. He moved forward, grabbed Castiel by the shoulders, and kissed him. The man didn't react, so Dean deepened the kiss, his tongue forcing its way into Castiel's mouth. Finally Dean had to pull back for air – and Castiel just stared at him in shock. Then he picked up his clothes, and walked quickly away to the furthest point of the changing room.  
The next day things were back to normal, Castiel doing his level best to avoid him. Dean wanted to apologize, but couldn't think of any way to justify his actions, so said nothing. But he knew he'd not only crossed a line, but stamped all over it. There was only one thing for it. He had to quit the team.  
He would tell the coach on Friday. It was the day he was usually in his best mood, having gone out drinking with his mates the day before. It was the least he could do.  
But as things turned out, Fate had other plans.

The small hours of Friday morning, and Dean couldn't sleep for worrying. So he decided to drive around town for an hour or so before hitting the pool – he still enjoyed swimming, after all. The town was almost deserted, though he caught sight of some damn jogger out for a morning run, complete with the obligatory iPod or whatever.  
He was driving down Main Street, and decided to turn down 4th to reach the pool that way. It was still dark, so he didn't see the jogger running out from behind a newspaper stand until it was too late. The figure bounced off the front of the Impala and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Dean screeched to a halt and raced out of the car, hoping desperately that he hadn't killed the man, who lay motionless on the ground.  
And that was when Dean's world fell apart. It was Castiel.

A fractured femur, the doctor said. Castiel could swim again, but never to any high level. His dreams of winning anything were over. And though no-one was there to say it to his face, Dean knew that for the second time, he'd ruined the young man's life.  
Which was why it came as such a shock when he opened his door one day to find Gabriel Novak outside. Gabriel, who he hadn't seen since the day he'd hit him outside their house in Lawrence.  
Gabriel looked at him strangely.  
“Can I come in?” he asked.  
“Oh. Sure, yeah.”  
Dean moved back to let him enter, wondering why he was here. Unless it was with a message from his brother that he never wanted to see Dean again. Which he would fully understand. Gabriel sat down in one of the chairs, looking strangely anxious.  
“I'm here about Cas”, he said  
“Go on.”  
“He wants to see you.”  
Dean's eyebrows shot up.  
“Um, why?”  
“He wouldn't tell me. Well, are you going to see him?”  
Dean hesitated.  
“He really wants to see me?”  
“That's what he said. Not my choice. If it was up to me, I'd get a restraining order against you, the harm you keep doing to him. But he asked me to relay the message, so I have.”  
The way he spoke made it clear he still disliked Dean intensely. Dean could hardly blame him. Part of his desperately wanted to see Castiel, but part of him was afraid what might happen if he did, either Castiel's reaction or Dean's body betraying him again.  
“I'll go see him”, he promised. “Today. Tell him I'll be in later today.”  
“'Kay. I'll see myself out. Try not to kill him this time!”  
He glared angrily at Dean, and left. 

It took a whole lot to make Dean Winchester feel scared. But standing here in front of the hospital, he was most definitely several miles beyond terrified. He was about to see the man whose life he had ruined - twice over. It took a visible effort to force his legs to take him through the lobby and up to the third floor, where he knew Castiel was in one of the small side-rooms.  
Looking in through the window, he could see the young man was asleep, facing towards the elegant bay window. He looked even paler than Dean remembered, and some of the bruises from the accident were clearly visible. For a moment Dean felt like chickening out and running away, thinking he could leave a note saying he hadn’t wanted to wake the man, but with an effort he managed to pull it together, and slipped silently into the room.  
“Hullo, Dean.”  
He froze.  
“Your cologne”, Castiel said by way of explanation. “It’s very… woodsy. I smelt it as soon as you came in.”  
“Oh. Er, hi, Cas.”  
The patient turned to face him, and Dean winced. He had a large bruise on his face from where he’d hit the road.  
“I know I look dreadful”, Castiel sighed. “Thank you for coming, anyway.”  
“Yeah, no biggie. Would have brought you grapes or something, but I didn’t know what you liked. Figured I could bring something next time.”  
Castiel looked at him for a long moment.  
“You’d….. come again?” he asked, sounding almost disbelieving.  
“Hell, of course I would! I put you in here, didn’t I? After all I’ve done to you, a few measly fruit is the least I can do!”  
For some reason, Castiel looked disappointed.  
“Thank you”, he said in a small voice.  
Dean sat down in the bedside chair.  
“So have they given you a release date yet?” he asked after what seemed like far too long a silence.”  
“No”, Castiel sighed. “They need to do more tests, to figure out just how bad it really is. But they have advised me to stop competitive swimming.”  
“I’m so sorry, Cas!”  
Castiel reached out a hand, and grasped Dean’s shoulder. It was an odd gesture, but Dean rather liked it, so he said nothing.  
“That’s one of the reasons I asked you in here”, Castiel said quietly. “I need to ask you a couple of favours.”  
“Anything, Cas. Just name it.”  
“You haven’t heard what they are, yet”, he said, smiling slightly.  
“If it’s physically possible, I’ll do it!”  
“Okay.” He hesitated for a moment, and seemed to gather himself. “First, I want you to go for the championship trials….”  
“No! Not after what I did to you…”  
“Dean!”  
The grip on his shoulder tightened.  
“Dean, I forgive you. I want you to do this. You’ve been getting closer to my times of late, and…..”  
He stopped. Dean stared at him in confusion. He seemed to be on the point of tears.  
“Cas?”  
The patient gulped, then let go his grip and turned away from Dean.  
“I should have told you. I’m sorry.”  
“What for?” Dean asked, puzzled.  
“After… those thugs, I took up swimming because my therapist said not feeling confident around water would always hold me back. Then I read about you joining the swim team here as a freshman, and I…. I wanted revenge! I know it’s petty and small-minded, but I felt if I could take away your dream, it would make me feel better in some way. So I spent two years training flat out, then switched schools.”  
Dean stared at him.  
“You hated me that much?” he asked.  
“You saw what your ‘friends’ did to me. Yes, I hated you. I’m sorry, Dean. I thought it would make me feel better, seeing you suffer, but… it just didn’t.”  
“Oh.”  
He looked at the young man’s back, and saw it was shaking slightly. Then he heard what was definitely a half-stifled sob. He reached out and gently held him, turning him slowly round.  
“Don’t cry, Cas! Please! If that’s all you’ve done, it’s nothing compared to the shit I’ve done to you. Please!”  
He held the sobbing man for several moments, his t-shirt becoming damp with his tears. Finally Castiel pulled back a little. Dean reached for a tissue and handed it to him, and he dabbed his eyes.  
“What was the other favour?” Dean asked.  
Castiel looked at him in shock.  
“Oh. Er, nothing. Really, nothing.”  
“Come on, Cas. Hey, you’ve just soaked my favourite t-shirt. You can ask me anything.”  
“Kiss me again!”  
Dean stared at him in shock. Castiel’s face reddened, but he seemed unable to look away.  
It struck the taller man that, frankly, this was it. One of the game-changing moments of his life. He could either back off and pretend this had never happened – and if they ever did a Masters in denial, Dean would definitely get a first – or he could kiss the man whose life he had twice ruined.  
“Okay.”  
He leant over and gently took the patient by the chin, placing their lips together in a kiss that was almost chaste. There was no reaction from the man in the bed, probably because he was staring at Dean in complete amazement.  
“I don’t suppose you’d stretch to a third favour?” And damn, his voice was even lower.  
“Maybe”, Dean smiled. “Try me.”  
“Sex.”  
“With your injuries? No friggin’ way.”  
Castiel’s face fell for a moment.  
“But later?” he asked, tremulously.  
Dean grinned wolfishly.  
“Oh, later? Hell, yeah, baby! Once you’re mended, we’ll do it every which way and everywhere you want. Even the pool.”  
“In that case, you can forget the grapes!” Castiel grinned back. “That’s a real motivation to get well soon!”  
   
Seven months later  
Dean hated flying. Not just the bit where he defied the laws of physics and got suspended in a metal tube for hours on end. No, what really bugged him was when the bloody thing landed, and then every damned thing seemed to go into slow motion.  
He’d won bronze at the championships, so he wasn’t required for the obligatory airport shot of the country’s gold medal winners. Which was just as well, as he had barely an hour to make his connection for the flight to Kansas.  
Or so he thought, until the airport security woman checked his passport, then looked at him through narrowed eyes.  
“Dean Winchester?” she said sharply.  
“Er, yeah?”  
“Just step this way, sir.”  
He groaned inwardly. Not another frisking by some dude with an attitude problem, he thought wryly as he rounded a corner. He really didn’t need….  
And he stopped. There, right in front of him, was Cas. Cas, with the friggin’ keys to the Impala swinging from his hand.  
Dean nearly knocked the security woman over in his haste to reach his lover, before swinging him round three times. He heard her chuckle softly and a door shut as she left, but his attention was solely on the man in his arms.  
“I booked a room at a motel tonight”, Castiel smiled, “and thought we could drive back the day after tomorrow.”  
“Why the day after tomorrow?” Dean asked curiously. “You wanna’ go sightseeing in the Big Apple?”  
Castiel chuckled.  
“Not really. Because with what I’ve got planned for you tonight, Dean Winchester, you’ll be far too sore to do anything that involves sitting down in the next twenty-four hours!”  
   
As it turned out he was right. But Dean didn’t mind that. Not one little bit.


End file.
